Molly McCormack & the Legend of Tir na nOg

6 - Tír na nÔg

It took them a minute to orientate themselves. The first thing they noticed was that it was no longer night. In the blink of an eye they had gone from moonlight to daylight. Forest to field. Above them white puffy clouds moved lazily across a blue, sun streaked sky.

"Molly."

Nothing.

"Molly!"

"I know, Conor. I know. Just give me a minute."

"A minute for what?"

"To figure out where we are."

"We're not in the Moat. I can tell you that." Conor shook his head. "I knew I should have stayed in bed. I knew it. What is it about you Molly? Molly and trouble. They go hand in hand. Peas and corn, bread and butter, milk . . ."

"Oh, shut-up Conor. If you are that anxious to go back to the Moat and take up with that horse, then by all means . . ." Molly indicated behind her then stopped mid sentence. "Where'd it go?"

Conor looked in the direction she motioned to. The archway was gone. Behind them was nothing but a sun-dappled forest. He closed his eyes. "This is bad, Molly. Worse than bad."

Even Molly wasn't sure how to answer.

"Are we dead?" Conor asked.

Molly rolled her eyes. "Don't be so stupid!"

She looked around. Before them lay an open field outlined by forest and distant mountains. At their feet was the beginning of a path. "It's gotta lead somewhere?" Molly raised an eyebrow.

"I dunno." Conor balked. "We should stay here. Maybe the door will come back." He thought for a moment. "I know! Where's the locket?"

Molly looked at her empty hands and padded down her body. No locket. "Why? What do you want it for?"

"Just give it to me."

Molly confessed. "I don't got it."

"Please don't tell me that you dropped it in the Moat"

"Why? Who cares? We'll get it when we leave."

"IF we leave. IF!"

"What are you babbling about?"

He sighed. "I think it's the key. When you opened it, that arch appeared. They must be connected somehow." He sighed again. "Now what are we gonna do?"

Molly smiled sympathetically. "Aw come-on. Maybe we can find another way home. Look," she indicated the path ahead of them. "It's all downhill from here."

Conor shook his head in misery. "That's what I'm afraid of."

Molly shouldered him with humor. "Come on. Staying here isn't gonna do us any good."

Conor looked at the emptiness behind them and nodded his head. She was right. Maybe there would be answers at the end of the path. It was worth a try.

"Let's go." He said.

As they began walking down the hill, he noticed the world surrounding them was awesome. It helped to ease his fears. Surely a world inhabited by child-eating monsters would be filled with fire and brimstone. Not the pretty little petaled flowers that were scattered in the field around them. Curious, he went in for a closer look.

"There's something funny in the way those flowers are grouped." Conor observed. "All according to color. Weird."

Molly looked around and realized that Conor was right. Beside them was a pretty group of purple posies. Molly reached out to pluck one. Her efforts were rewarded with a limp, dead flower.

"Hey!" Molly called out. She looked at the patch of flowers and considered another. To her horror, one by one the petals fell and the stalks died. Quickly, death ran rampant through the patch of purple flowers until all that remained were stalks laying upon the ground in deathly repose. And that wasn't the last of it! She pointed out into the field at another cropping of purple flowers. "Conor, look!"

As their gaze swept the vast field surrounding them, purple poesies withered and fell lifeless to the ground.

"Molly what'd you do?" Conor asked.

Molly, wide-eyed, shrugged her shoulders and sputtered. "I didn't do anything. I picked one flower. One. And they all started dying. Just the purple ones."

Suddenly, not more than five hundred yards away, a howl filled the air. Molly and Conor immediately cast their gaze in the direction of the cry. Standing with his back to them was a small stocky man of no more than three feet. Raising his hands to his bulbous head, he began pulling out the remaining tendrils of hair.

"My babies, my babies!"

His voice was the sound of gravel and dirt. He looked at the corpses of purple poesies surrounding his feet. For the second time that day, Conor reacted with impeccable instinct. He grabbed Molly by the sleeve and headed for the cover of wood.

He pulled them off the path and trampled through the field of vegetation, massacring flowers indiscriminately. Yellow and blue flowers alike fell in rapid succession. Suddenly the beautiful field of color became a field of death. The angered cries of the little man echoed in full behind them. Molly cast a quick glance in his direction and saw the stout figure waddle from one group of wilted mass to the next, cursing up a storm as he continued to pull at his hair. It was downright comical.

They broke into the forest and ran deep for cover. Molly moved along at a rapid pace crunching twigs beneath her feet and batting branches out of her way. Once sure they were far enough away from the stocky little man, they left the forest and returned to the trail. Their ears were alerted to a distant sound.

"Good Lord, what now!" Conor croaked.

Simultaneously, they came to an abrupt halt. Molly closed her eyes to listen. "I hear people!" She exclaimed.

"Great," Conor responded sarcastically. "What makes you think they'll be friendly?"

Molly rolled her eyes. She'd had just about enough of Conor's doom and gloom. "Stay here if you like. I'm going to check it out."

Conor, clearly not happy, followed her retreating figure. "OK. OK. Wait up!"

They continued along without a word. After some time they found themselves looking down upon a bustling village of cobblestoned roads and thatched roof cottages. Voices trickled out in harmony as friends and neighbors talked and laughed. People gardened and people shopped. It was a hub of activity.

Molly started to run down the hill. "Maybe someone can help us."

Conor sighed. "Wait Molly. Wait!"

They slowed their gait as they neared the village. For the first time in her life, Molly thought twice before barreling forward. "Maybe we should just remain hidden and watch for a while."

"That's the smartest thing I've heard you say yet," replied Conor.

She led them to a cover of bushes and hoped to observe the village unseen. They sat down within a thick clump and continued to watch. This was their first rest since the alarm went off at 2 A.M. She began to unshoulder her backpack.

"Conor, maybe it would be a good idea for us to rest here for awhile before I decide what to do next."

No response.

"Conor?"

Molly looked at Conor. He was sound asleep.

She carefully removed his backpack and slid it under his head.

"Way too much excitement for the little guy," she said aloud.

She would stay awake. Someone had to keep watch and decide what their next move would be. As she inventoried her leadership qualities (and there were many), she began to feel the drugged fingers of slumber tickling at her own eyelids. Realizing that sleep was inevitable and necessary for such a brilliant mind, she plumped her backpack and laid her head down to rest. She quickly fell asleep.

At the edge of the forest, deep within the shadows, a pair of guarded eyes settled down and studied them.